New Orleans ranks 12th on GQ's worst dressed cities list

this is a discussion within the Everything Else Community Forum; Before I even clicked on the link, I was gearing up to defend our town, and its, shall we say, unique sense of style.
GQ magazine came out with its rankings of the worst dressed cities in America today. Coming ...

Before I even clicked on the link, I was gearing up to defend our town, and its, shall we say, unique sense of style.

GQ magazine came out with its rankings of the worst dressed cities in America today. Coming in at no. 12 was our beloved Big Easy.
And, truth be told, they make a fair point, but I’d argue, the reasoning is about a year too late.
Here’s the blurb:
Back in the '90s when the Saints were the chronically ill Aints, a genteel New Orleanian would never wear a baggy black jersey emblazoned with a golden fleur-de-lis. But now? Drew Brees leads the team to its first Super Bowl victory and suddenly the whole city is dressed like they're in the Superdome on a Sunday afternoon. What happened to all the older bearded gentlemen that made bushy hair and sideburns so graceful? The ones at Jazz Fest taking the big easy in khaki shorts, loose linen shirts, and straw hats? The ones strolling the grass in sandals and nursing a to-go cup of Abita and forking a fried oyster? We're afraid that another Super Bowl victory might very well turn y'all into black-and-gold Zubaz pant-wearing maniac keg guzzlers sucking Buffalo wing meat clean off the bone. Oh, no, wait, is that ranch dipping sauce in your beard? Seriously, it's scary.—Christopher Swetala
Now, before we get our fleur-de-lis-covered hackles up, we can all admit that, post XLIV nirvana, we did go a little extreme in our black and gold love.

But that explosion of Who Dat pride has since simmered down a bit. The bedazzled jerseys are (mostly) reserved for game day these days (or at least should be).

In all, the authors actually took it fairly easy on us. They called Las Vegas “the ground zero for white Midwesterners de-boarding the plane dressed in Phil Mickelson-esque pleats, tucked polos and visors and leaving the hotel in more gold jewelry than a Saudi oil baron on a junket in Dubai.” Ouch.